These Dying Embers
by Robottko
Summary: The Dragons had won the war and humanity was enslaved, given as pets and servants to young dragon children. Sherlock had never wanted a pet of his own, and each one given to him was immediately discarded. Of course, when given the choice, Sherlock chooses the most dangerous pet of all: a certain Captain by the name of John Watson.
1. Chapter 1

No one was entirely sure why dragons kept humans around after they won the war. Human's, though edible, were not a dragon's ideal choice in meat. Humans were slower than dragons, and hardly strong enough to be a means of free labour, even though that's what they were normally used for. Each dragon was given a human as a slave at a young age. Most dragons kept the same slave over the course of the human's lifetimes; the more slaves they employed, the more prosperous they were. Though dragons lived longer than humans, a majority of them didn't go through more than three or four main slaves. Sherlock Holmes was not one of those dragons.

He had received his first human at the age of ten years old. The slave, a human name Greg, was promptly declared a complete bore, then given to his elder brother, Mycroft. Mycroft already had a slave, of course. A pretty girl that Mycroft had named Anthea had been serving him for seven years already, and Mycroft had stated on several occasions that Anthea could do the work of twenty slaves, and that he would never need a second one. Sherlock could tell Anthea was pleased when Greg came to work for Mycroft, however, though she never would have admitted it.

Sherlock's second slave, gifted to him at the age of thirteen, served him for about two weeks before he grew bored of him. Victor followed Sherlock around incessantly, even when he had demanded that the human should leave him alone. The breaking point had been when Victor hid in his master's room to see his human form. Sherlock had gotten so angry that he nearly scorched the terrified boy. Not that it was uncommon for slaves to see the human form of dragons, as both Anthea and Greg had seen his as well as Mycroft's, but Sherlock didn't trust this human to view his yet.

Several more slaves came and went, not a single one to Sherlock's liking. Most were deemed too stupid for the genius, others too disagreeable. It was on Sherlock's twenty-first birthday that the Holmes family decided that Sherlock should pick out a slave for himself.

* * *

"Really, Mycroft?" Sherlock scoffed, his red tail swinging in agitation. "If you're forcing me to choose a slave, why can't I be in my dragon form?"

"You don't want to terrify the poor humans the first day, do you?" Mycroft drawled, not bothering to look at Sherlock's smirking face. Clearly that was _exactly_ what Sherlock wanted to do. It had been difficult enough to get Sherlock into half-dragon form, proud as he was of his sharp claws, red horns, and powerful tail. Sherlock's ultimate test would be which human was the least scared of him.

"Let's go, then." Sherlock huffed. "I don't want to be here all day."

The dragons strolled along the corridors, glancing through each door they passed. Most of the humans drew away in fear, causing Sherlock to scoff in disgust. It wasn't until they had reached the last corridor that they found anyone remotely interesting.

"A ward for dangerous humans?" Sherlock rolled his eyes at the markings above the door to the corridor. "How on earth could _humans_ be dangerous?"

"A caged animal, no matter how small, can be very dangerous." Mycroft replied sombrely. "Do not take them lightly."

Sherlock snorted, a wisp of smoke curling from his nose dramatically. "I do believe I'll be fine. I've had plenty of dragons angry at me, and never have I come to harm." He said, pushing open the doors and walking inside, his brother trailing after him.

The humans in the dangerous ward were far less skittish than the rest of the facility. Even though the dangerous humans didn't show fear, they still reeked of it, causing Sherlock's nose to wrinkle in disgust. Just when he was about to give up, he saw the perfect specimen. The human didn't appear to be much at first glance. He was short and understated, blending into his surroundings as though camouflaged, even his blond hair fading into the drab walls. Upon second inspection, Sherlock realised that he was a former soldier in the human-dragon war, the way he held himself suggested that a dragon had wounded his shoulder, most likely a bite wound. Sherlock stopped in front of the cage, peering down at the odd little human, and the human did the most extraordinary thing: he stared back.

Sherlock's eyes widened when the dark blue gaze met his, looking distinctly unimpressed. Sherlock gave a little growl, and while he could see the humans in the nearby cages flinch, the soldier didn't move a muscle, just crossed his arms, his gaze asking _'is that the best you can do?'_

"This one." Sherlock said aloud, continuing to stare at the human whose brow was now furrowing in confusion. "I want this one."

"That one?" A handler asked, looking at Sherlock if he was insane. Perhaps he was. "That's Captain John Watson."

"Is that supposed to mean something?" Sherlock asked, causing a grunt of indignation to come from the little human.

"Fascinating." Mycroft said, walking closer. "If you paid any attention to current events, you would realise that Captain John Watson was a lead instigator in the war. Why isn't he in a higher security prison?"

"He used to be." The handler sighed. "Escaped. We're the only facility that has any capabilities of holding him. He's not for sale."

"But I want him." Sherlock repeated, crossing his arms over his chest.

"He's a terrorist." Mycroft said. "The most dangerous human in the country, quite possibly the world."

"He's perfect." Sherlock grinned, turning back to the human who was currently watching the scene with bafflement. "I could use an assistant, John. What do you say?"

"Piss off." John replied, his voice rough from disuse. Sherlock's grin brightened, and he turned back to the handler, his blood red tail curling happily at the thought of John as his slave.

"Where do I sign?"

* * *

**A/N: This is a republish of Chapter 12 of my "Ghastly Grim" series, titled under the same name. This story had such a wonderful following that I have been compelled to make it a multichaptered fic! Chapter 2 should be up in a couple of days if all goes according to plan!**

**Robottko**


	2. Chapter 2

Most dragons hadn't looked twice at John, and those that did became disinterested as soon as they heard his name. Needless to say, the human was extremely confused. It was more than obvious that his new 'master' was wealthy and could afford any human that he wanted. Why on earth would he want _him_?

"Come along, John." The curly-haired dragon said smugly, his eyes glittering as the chains that bound John's wrists were unlocked from the shackles. John looked around, trying to figure out the best escape out of the prison when he caught sight of the brother of his new master. A hard look from the elder dragon stopped him in his track, and John knew that any resistance on his part would end horribly.

"I do believe we'll need precaution on this one." The elder dragon said to the handler, "Fit him with one of those temporary collars. I'll send it back when we get a proper one on him."

Before John could even blink, the handler was snapping a metal collar around his neck. He let out a small growl at the handler, who promptly took a step back.

"Obviously the collar is too tight." His curly-haired master said, red tail whipping back and forth. "Couldn't you loosen it?"

"No." The handler sighed. "He's much too crafty with the collars. This one will not only shock him if he's misbehaved, but it will inject a sedative if need be. It was designed with him in mind."

"Does that make me special?" John asked, raising his brow. He expected his new master to tut disapprovingly, perhaps shock him as punishment for mouthing off to a dragon, even as one as low as the handler. What he did not expect was for him to laugh.

It was a low rumble, a sound full of mirth. Laughter wasn't common in the facility, and even when heard, it was usually malicious. His new master's laugh was…quite pleasant to the ear. Not that John would ever admit it, of course.

"Oh, John." The curly haired dragon chuckled. "You are _perfection._"

Two guards came around the corner before John had the chance to respond, their guns trained on his heart. The handler sighed slightly, then nodded once at the elder dragon. "Alright, we're ready to fill out paperwork for the human."

"Are such drastic measures really so necessary?" His master asked petulantly as they began to walk. John considered not moving before deciding that being shocked for simply being stubborn wasn't really worth it.

"Yes." The handler replied warily, keeping an eye on John as if he might attack. John just rolled his eyes in response, choosing to glare ahead of him at the treatment.

The journey to the office was uneventful, and John was pleased to note that the guards had already lowered their defences. To try and escape now would be idiotic, but it was nice to know that if he behaved long enough, he could get away.

"Right. Well, we've got the paperwork for human #4721 right here. John Hamish Watson. Male. Age twenty five. Status: extremely dangerous." The handler said, pulling out John's file with a flourish. "Sign on the dotted line on page two please. And remember, there is no refunds on this human."

"No refunds? Why ever not?" John heard the elder dragon say. He didn't bother looking over at him, but instead focusing on the messy scrawl of his new master. _William Sherlock Scott Holmes._

"Oh, you can read?" the elder dragon said, and John's new master turned to look at him with increased interest.

"That's why." The handler said in response to the elder dragon's first question. "He knows too much, and is far too dangerous."

John couldn't help the smug smirk that crossed his face. Apparently the handler saw it, for a second later John was clinging to the wall to stay upright, electricity running along his muscles and bones.

"Bad boy!" The handler scolded, though there wasn't much heat in the words. "You will respect your new master, Sherlock, do you understand me?"

"Perfectly." John gritted out, glaring at the handler. The silver remote used to shock him glinted menacingly in the handler's meaty paw, and John could see scales and claws beginning to form, out of fear rather than anything else.

"I do believe he's mine now." His master, Sherlock, said. His pale hand reached out to snatch the remote away, which was quickly deposited in his trouser pocket. "Thank you very much. I do believe John and I are going to take our leave now."

"Oh Sherlock." The elder dragon said, his voice singsonging mockingly. "I do believe you're forgetting something."

"Shut up, Mycroft." Sherlock said, and John quickly added the strange name to his inventory. "You're being particularly idiotic today."

"I'm not the one forgetting my new human's leash, am I?" Mycroft's voice sounded smug, and John decided that he didn't much like the elder dragon. His new master seemed to share his opinion, and with a snort of disgust, snatched the chain that would serve as John's leash off the handler's desk.

"You're insufferable." Sherlock sneered at his brother, clipping the leash onto John's collar. "Come along, John. We have to stop at the morgue before we go home. I want to pick up a sampling of human toes."

"Human-" John began before being choked by the metal collar digging to his neck as Sherlock walked away. He followed with an angry sound, silently plotting the best way to kill Sherlock and Mycroft.

After all, there was no way he could remain a slave forever.


End file.
